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“No ambulance.” His eyes hardened. “Yes, I’ll stay here. You go. Take the meeting.”
“We have a deal.” I smiled softly. He closed his eyes from exhaustion. Had he been suffering up here for days while I lounged at the pool and went boutique shopping? When did he acquire all the pill bottles? I thought about my conversation with Kimble a few days ago.
“Good.” He nodded. “I’m going to tell you exactly what to say.”
“You don’t trust me to handle the meeting on my own?”
He glared at me. “I will give you the script.”
“Fine,” I relented. “Tell me what to say.”
“Kimble will take you to and from the meeting. You stay exactly twenty minutes.”
“Twenty minutes?” I questioned.
“Yes. It shows interest, but it also shows you are busy. Your time is valuable, Kennedy.”
I nodded. “Okay, got it. In and out in twenty minutes.” The meeting seemed more doable. The time limit took the edge off.
“Do not mention my health.” It was a warning.
“I won’t, but what do you want me to say when I show up instead of you? I think it will be obvious something is wrong.”
I could tell he was thinking through the strategy. He wouldn’t want to insult the family. He wouldn’t want to be caught in a lie.
“Tell them I was called to Philadelphia for a family emergency that couldn’t be helped.”
I peered at him. “What was it?”
“What?”
“The emergency,” I pressed.
He waved his hand in the air. “He won’t ask.”
I didn’t believe him. People were curious. They always had questions, and more questions on top of those.
“All right. What is the meeting about? What do we need to discuss?” I was concerned about this part.
“It’s only an introduction. A family meeting. Have a drink. Tell him you love New Orleans. We’re happy here and glad to be out of Philadelphia. Make my apologies for not being able to make it. That’s all. Nothing more. Twenty minutes. And come straight here when it’s over.”
I nodded. “Okay. I think I can do that. What’s his name?” I asked.
My father sighed. “Raphael Corban.”
My stomach rose high into my chest. “Corban?”
“Yes. This meeting is important. Did you meet him at his daughter’s engagement party?” His hand slid off the bed. I lifted it and placed it next to his waist. He was too weak to talk much longer.
“Not exactly, but I did see him.” I thought about how to twist the truth.
But he started to drift in and out of sleep. I was glad the coughing had stopped.
“What time?” I whispered.
“Kimble has the details.”
I stood from the chair and returned it next to the wall. I backed away from the bed, watching my father sleep. I didn’t know how much time I had before my meeting with the king of New Orleans. The certainty I had that I could take the appointment evaporated when I realized it was Knight’s father I would have drinks with, not a random boss in town.
